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The Companions of Jehu
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“Ah! ah!” exclaimed Antoine, a radiant smile lighting his face.
“Is there any remedy for it?” asked Montbar.
“There is,” replied Antoine, holding out his glass.
Montbar filled it as scrupulously full as he had the first three.
“Well,” said the postilion, holding the ruby liquid to the light and admiring its sparkle, “as I was saying, we drank to the health of the beautiful Josephine – ”
“Yes,” said Montbar.
“But,” said Antoine, “there are a devilish lot of Josephines in France.”
“True. How many do you suppose there are, Antoine?”
“Perhaps a hundred thousand.”
“Granted. What then?”
“Well, out of that hundred thousand a tenth of them must be beautiful.”
“That’s a good many.”
“Say a twentieth.”
“All right.”
“That makes five thousand.”
“The devil! You’re strong in arithmetic!”
“I’m the son of a schoolmaster.”
“Well?”
“Well, to which of those five thousand did we drink, hey?”
“You’re right, Antoine. The family name must follow. To the beautiful Josephine – ”
“Stop. This glass was begun; it won’t do. If the health is to do her any good, we’ll have to empty it and fill it again.”
He put the glass to his lips.
“There, it’s empty,” he said.
“And full,” added Montbar, putting the bottle to the glass.
“I’m ready. To the beautiful Josephine – ”
“To the beautiful Josephine – Lollier!”
And Montbar emptied his glass.
“By the Lord!” exclaimed Antoine. “Wait a moment. Josephine Lollier! Why, I know her.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“Josephine Lollier! Why, she’s the daughter of the man who keeps the post-horses at Belleville.”
“Exactly.”
“Damn it!” exclaimed the postilion, “you’re not to be pitied – a pretty slip of a girl! To the health of beautiful Josephine Lollier.”
And he swallowed his fifth glass of Burgundy.
“Now,” asked Montbar, “do you understand why I had you sent up here, my lad?”
“No; but I don’t bear you any grudge for it, all the same.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Oh! I’m a pretty good devil.”
“Well, I’ll tell you why I sent for you.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Wait. You’ll hear better if your glass is full than if it’s empty.”
“Are you a doctor for deaf folk?” asked the postilion, banteringly.
“No; but I’ve lived a good deal among drunkards,” replied Montbar, filling Antoine’s glass again.
“A man is not a drunkard because he likes wine,” said Antoine.
“I agree with you, my good fellow,” replied Montbar. “A man is only a drunkard when he can’t carry his liquor.”
“Well said,” cried Antoine, who seemed to carry his pretty well. “I’m listening.”
“You told me that you didn’t understand why I had sent for you.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Still, you must have suspected that I had an object?”
“Every man has an object, good or bad, according to our priest,” observed Antoine, sententiously.
“Well, my friend,” resumed Montbar, “mine is to make my way by night, without being recognized, into the courtyard of Master Nicolas-Denis Lollier, postmaster at Belleville.”
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В борьбе за власть есть первые; есть вторые; и есть 6ыдло (из канала BS "Без Слёз").
- Вторые всегда стремятся стать первыми. Но ресурсы власти – у п...
Далее